


once in a life

by lizook12



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: Thank god this is only a high school art show.





	once in a life

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Chances_ by the Backstreet Boys.

Madonna. 

Mosaics of hearts and butterflies.

Even a few self-portraits.

All perfectly normal art subjects for the teens she knows share a creative space with her son.

It’s the _Lazarus Chief_ work that catches her off guard and she feels him stiffen beside her, his breathing going a little shallow.

She knows it’s not Will’s—doesn’t even consider it for a second after the fucking nightmare he went through—but it’s unsettling to think of someone else studying them so completely.

Thank god this is only a high school art show. 

And yes, she’s thrilled for Will’s first real public show, but… 

She’s a little relieved that there aren’t too many people crowded into the auditorium, that the important people already understand that there’s more to the story than they can ever know. 

Than they _should _ever know.

“At least they kept the grey out of my hair.” 

She glances back at him, lets the corner of her mouth lift as she continues on, silently urging him not to linger. “I like the grey.”  


“Joyce…” 

“I do.” She pauses at the next display (_Madonna meets Lisa Frank) _and turns toward him. 

His hair is still mostly dark, the grey streaking through his temples, and right now it’s going a little wild at the ends, as though he’s been running his hand through it over and over. 

Closing the slight distance between them, she rocks up on her toes, smooths the wayward hair down before letting her hand drift to his shoulder. 

“Well, that’s a fucking relief.” He somehow manages to say it with a straight face, the only giveaway the hint of laughter lurking in his voice. 

“Mmm, I’m sure you were very concerned.” 

“Yes, not like there’s not a whole pool going around about when we’re going to make it official.” 

“Jim.” A soft laugh escapes as she twines her hand in his tie, tugging him down for a quick kiss. “I hope you’re rigging it in our favor.”  


“Shhh…” He lets his forehead rest against hers a moment, fingers ghosting over the small of her back. “Don’t want anyone catching on.”  


There’s no containing her laugh now and she leans into him, straightening his tie before pressing her lips to his once more. 

He grins against her, hand flexing on her back before settling low on her hips as he forces himself to pull away. 

Put some space between them before they end up making out like teenagers again. 

This is his son’s school, after all. 

“Got it, Chief.”   


(And she does. 

This _is_ official.

Has been since before even _he_ realized it.)

Snaking her arm around him, she guides them forward. “Thank you for making sure you had the night off, I know he didn’t say it but he wanted you here.”  


“I know.” His thumb strokes over her waist. “Who else would I wear a tie for?” 

“Me. El.”  


“She’s just embarrassed by me no matter what.” 

“She’ll grow out—“

“Wait, that’s…” 

“Yeah.”

They’ve finally found Will’s display and while there’s sketches and pieces they’ve seen before the main work is something else entirely. 

More abstract than either of them can really appreciate, there’s a life in the details that leaves nothing to debate. 

An overturned bike against the door. 

Overgrown plants along the edges. 

A bright light on the porch, two packs of cigarettes stacked on a table under the window. 

It’s their house. 

Not in the literal sense, but… 

“I think…” Her voice is a little shaky, somewhere caught between laughter and tears. “We’re doing ok.”  


“I know we are.” Dropping a kiss into her hair, he traces the outline of the light. “We all made it home.”  


There’s nothing she can say to that—she doesn’t even want to try—so she nods against him, absorbing it for a long moment before linking their hands together and pulling him towards the edge of the cafeteria where their son waits.


End file.
